


I Put a Spell on You

by Sairyn



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys In Love, Dreams, First Time, Jealous Mike!, M/M, Magic, Tumblr: Suits100, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sairyn/pseuds/Sairyn
Summary: Harvey drags Mike to New Orleans to help work on a case for an old friend. Once there, Mike learns about Harvey's past and experiences first hand why you shouldn't play with forces you don't understand. Careful what you wish for....





	1. Superstition

It's not often Mike dreams, but when he does, he remembers them- vividly. It’s not as if he has a choice. 

Dreams come in many ways, for many reasons. There are the silly ones, the improbable ones, the hopeful ones, the ones that speak of things the conscious mind would like to ignore, and of course the ones that leave the dreamer shivering and clinging for the touch of daylight. Those are the dreams everyone wants to forget, to never repeat. But Mike isn't afforded this luxury. In fact, he has been having this dream sporadically for months now, though now it has picked up in frequency, waking him different hours of the night covered in sweat, a scream lodged in his throat. He doesn't want to remember it; doesn't want to feel it clinging to his skin like gossamer fingers- but more mornings than not, Mike finds the images playing like an endless loop. 

At first, Mike plays it off as stress. No one would argue that the last six months have been the most stressful time that Mike can ever remember in his young (okay not as young as he used to be) life. But when it starts to happen more often- something light and innocuous takes a dark turn becoming terrifying in a way Mike can't explain. 

When it occurs, it starts easy. Thoughts of his work day morph into funny recountings, fleeting images of people, things, places, food he ate. But then it changes. The dream, or maybe his mind begins to slow down. For most people that would be the conscious mind peeling away as the subconscious rises, bringing on REM sleep. The images in Mike’s mind become soft... hazy, the color gradually bleeding away until all he is left with is shadows. The world looks different in nebulous grays and shifting blacks- it looks alive and not in a good way. Mike tries to stir, but his limbs feel heavy, his eyes unable to open. The picture continues to unfold behind his closed eyelids, slowly, eerily _._

_He is walking along a gravel path. Black gnarled trees line the edges. Mike can hear water trickling nearby, the sounds of insects buzzing and screeching in the distance, and feels cloying moist heat on his skin. The night sky is enveloped in darkness, a heavy mist blankets the stars. In the next frame, he is walking towards a large antebellum looking home; the entranced guarded with white pillars. There is something about the way the house looks, like a presence emerging out of nothing, looming off in the distance. All Mike knows is that he doesn't want to go any further. Fear overtakes him as he gets closer. Mike has a healthy respect for fear- he has learned over the last few years to pause and listen to that voice inside of him that speaks when something feels wrong. Despite this though, Mike can't seem to control his legs as they carry him still closer. As he walks up the stairs, the doors open by themselves. Once again, he tries to fight, to stop himself from walking through them, panic spiking that much more. A warm gust hits his face, a putrid smell of decay attacks his senses making his eyes sting. The grand double doors slam closed behind him and before he can turn to try them, Mike knows he is trapped. His skin instantly prickles and sweat covers his brow as his heart rate triple times to panic levels. He opens his mouth to cry out._

And that is when he wakes, covered in sweat, tangled in his own sheets, his throat raw and hoarse. This morning is no different. He sits up, his breath coming in short pants. As if having this recurring nightmare isn't bad enough, when he looks at the clock he discovers he has somehow managed to sleep through his alarm again. Which means not only is he going to be late, but Harvey is going to be pissed. 

~~~ 

Harvey hangs up the phone with a groan. Donna looks up and walks into his office recognizing the number. 

“Donna,” Harvey barks, jump starting the conversation before she can respond. “Get Mike in here now.” 

“Sure thing,” she answers, not moving. 

Harvey stares at her intently, his eyebrows raised in question. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation, or what?” 

“What,” she answers sweetly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well you gave me the choice- so I choose what.” 

“Donna…” 

“Harvey.” She sighs dramatically before continuing. “Look, you and I both know I know exactly who you were talking to. So, I am going to ask this once. After all this time, what possibly could _he_ want?” she spats. 

Harvey looks at her sternly, his face rigid, his eyes hard. “Nothing. Just business. Now are you going to get Mike for me or am I going to have to find him myself.” 

“Find who?” Mike pants stepping briskly into Harvey’s office. 

“Where have you been?” 

“File room. Why? Did you need me?” he asks, hoping he sounds believable. 

Donna turns and gives Mike a look that screams liar. Or maybe he is just reading too much into her “all knowing” prowess. 

“Yes. Why were you late? And don't try bullshitting me, I know you just got here.” 

“I... um...” 

“Never mind. I need you to go back home and pack your bags.” 

“But I just…” Mike tries to catch himself but he sees the smirk on Harvey’s lips and realizes he just blabbed the truth about being late. 

“Nice try, puppy,” Donna stage whispers, turning to leave. 

“So,” he says, regrouping. “Where are we going?” 

“NOLA.” 

“Say again,” Mike counters, not noticing Donna flinch at the door before stopping her exit. 

Harvey’s eyes shift from Donna’s direction back to Mike. For a moment, Mike believes he sees a look of concern, regret or some other emotion not usually associated with the name Harvey Specter. When he blinks, whatever he thought he saw is replaced with Harvey’s usual _are you an idiot?_ look. 

“NOLA, as in New Orleans.” 

“Why? Doesn't the southern subsidiary of the firm usually cover that area?” 

“Yes, Harvey, why do **_you_** need to go?” Donna purrs, slithering back into the room and the conversation. 

Harvey ignores her and gives Mike his full attention. “What's the matter kid, think you're too cool for field work?” 

Mike is going to protest loudly, when his rolodex of a brain, begins showing him pictures of delicious Creole and Cajun food, hurricanes, live jazz music and a week all alone with Harvey. That particular card has bright flashing lights surrounding it. Mike can and will do whatever it takes to prove to Harvey and the rest of the firm he is worth every risk and sacrifice that has made up the last six years. That alone is a perfectly good reason. It isn't as if his decision to come back to Specter- Litt, or break it off with Rachel, has anything to do with him falling in love with his boss. Nope, that plays no part. In other words, his complaints die somewhere in his throat not even making it to his lips. 

“When do we leave?” 

“Tomorrow. Now go, I’m sure you have some things to finish up before then.” 

Mike gives both Donna and Harvey a mock salute before scampering out of the office. 

“So…,” Donna starts. “Let me ask again, what does Alex want? And why now?” 

“What makes you think this has anything to do with Alex?” he answers not meeting her eyes. 

“Uh hello, I’m Donna, remember? Plus, he dialed your back line. There are very few people who even know that line exists. So, when it lit up, I…” 

“You eavesdropped,” Harvey finishes. 

“You make it sound so dirty when you put it like that. But it's not like I listened to your entire conversation. I would've gladly dropped the whole thing, maybe. But now that you are heading to New Orleans, I think it deserves further inquiry. Now stop stalling Specter and tell me what your ex wants. And don't try and blow smoke up my ass with some legal issue he needs your expert opinion on. You and I both know that’s bullshit. He called for you specifically.” 

“Look, what happened between us was a long time ago. He’s been working for Proudoux and Folet for the last few years and they find themselves in a bit of trouble. That's all. It’s not personal.” 

“Not personal, huh? Then why are you bringing Mike?” 

Harvey’s silence is the only answer she gets. Point made, she flounces out of Harvey’s office back to her desk. 

~~~ 

Twenty-four hours later, Mike exits the airport into a blanket of wet heat that has him quickly removing his jacket. “I don't know why we had to wear a suit on the plane”, Mike grumbles. 

“What have I told you about looking good at all times.” 

“That was in New York.” 

“Doesn't matter,” he retorts, climbing into a cab. 

“Where to?” their driver asks. 

“The Monteleone,” Harvey answers. 

“Is it always this hot?” Mike complains, rolling up his sleeves. 

“Only in the summertime. Welcome to N’Awlins,” the cabbie laughs. 

“Ugh. Hey Harvey, think we can stop and get something to eat? A snack. How about we stop at Cafe du Monde? Fresh beignets. Or maybe a frozen daiquiri? I hear it's perfectly legal to walk around with them. What do you say?” 

“You do realize we are not on vacation. That we’re here to work, right? Or did you forget that on the plane ride?” 

“Can't it be a little of both?” Mike whines. “I mean, at least the beignets? We still gotta eat.” 

For which he gets the look that says _no_ in ten different ways. 

“Come on Harvey, we are in one of the Jazz capitols in the nation. You can't tell me you are not a tiny bit interested in visiting Preservation Hall.” 

“I've been there. You didn't really think this was my first trip to the Big Easy, did you?” 

“Well it's mine and it would be a shame not to get to see some of the sights.” 

“Cool your jets, Junior, you'll get plenty of opportunities.” 

“Fine, but I’m still hungry,” Mike whines. 

Thirty minutes later, Mike is sitting in Harvey’s adjoining room munching on the freshly fried dough. They are going over the critical pieces of the complaint when Harvey’s phone rings. Punching speaker, Harvey drops the phone back on the desk and begins talking. 

“What’s up Donna?” 

“Just checking to see that you both made it in okay.” 

“Uh huh, like you didn't already know that.” He huffs. “Now tell me why you really called.” 

“Fine. Have you talked to Alex yet?” 

“Donna…” 

The unfamiliar name catches Mike’s attention. “Alex? Who’s Alex?” 

Harvey ignores him while reaching for the phone. 

“You haven't told him yet?” Mike hears Donna’s voice echo through the speaker app.

“Tell me what?” 

“Nothing to tell,” Harvey quickly answers, grabbing the phone and clicking it out of speaker mode. 

Mike waits, taking the last few bites of his snack while Harvey finishes up his conversation that seems to be filled with nothing more than grunts and uh huh’s before he disconnects. 

“You done eating? We have an appointment.” 

“With who?” he asks cautiously. 

“Members of Proudoux and Folet. We’re meeting them in two hours. I suggest you change.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Have you looked at yourself?” 

Mike sees the telltale signs of his beignet in the form of powdered sugar scattered across his fingers and pants. Harvey’s suit doesn't have a speck on it despite eating his own. 

“How did you manage to stay clean?” 

“Like I said, not my first rodeo,” he smirks. “Now go change. Meet me in the lobby in an hour and a half. Make sure you familiarize yourself with these files.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Don't worry about it. I have someone I’ve got to go see. I'll be back before it's time for us to go.” 

“Who?” 

“What, are you my mother now? I told you I will be back. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Now go.” 

Mike picks up the files and goes through the door that leads to his room. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this trip than Harvey leads on. But he trusts Harvey, so he lets it go. 

After a quick nap and a shower, Mike makes it down to the lobby with two minutes to spare. He looks around briefly, then happens to hear a familiar throaty laugh coming from the side bar. When he enters, he stops short. Harvey isn’t alone. Now that isn’t surprising, the man can make friends anywhere. What does catch Mike off guard is the man that Harvey is talking to, no, leaning in to. They look as if they are sharing an intimate conversation.  Nah, he tells himself. Probably just some random person who Harvey managed to strike up a conversation with. Nothing to worry about. Mike almost laughs out loud at the thought of Harvey picking up some random man, when the stranger who is facing away from him, puts his hand on Harvey’s arm and keeps it there. Mike stops and waits for the rebuff or the cursing that is sure to follow. What he doesn't expect, is the way Harvey’s eyes sparkle and the small smile that spreads across Harvey’s lips. Something in Mike’s gut twist. Nope. No fucking way. Harvey is _mine_... straight his inner monologue admonishes. As if reading his thoughts, Harvey’s eyes cut over and catch his. He slides off the bar chair, and the foreign hand disappears, although Mike can swear he still sees red heat radiating from the spot. His thoughts are interrupted by Harvey calling his name. 

“Mike, there you are. Any longer and I thought I was going to have to send out a search party.” 

Mike smiles and watches intently as the stranger moves to turn to face Mike. Early thirties, caramel colored skin, crisp suit, soft eyes and a genuine smile. Mike hates him immediately. 

“Alex, my associate, Mike. Mike this is Alex Williams. An old friend and our contact at Proudoux and Falett,” Harvey introduces. 

Mike reaches out shaking the other man's hand, ignoring the spike of jealousy that comes out of nowhere. 

“Hi. Nice to meet you, Mike. Harvey here has told me good things about you.” 

“Really? That’s...surprising” Mike responds curiously. 

“Well, don't let this man fool you. He may come across all hard-ass, but underneath it all, he’s not so bad,” Alex gushes. 

“Don't believe a word of it, Mike.” 

“As if I could,” Mike cheekily answers. 

“Please. When I met this man, Harvey starts pointing to Alex, “...he was some cocky hot shot up and coming lawyer.” 

“So were you, if I remember correctly,” Alex counters. 

“Yeah, but unlike you, I was cool,” Harvey preens. 

“Says who?” Alex mocks in false outrage. 

“Says everyone,” Harvey smirks. 

Mike suddenly feels like an outsider watching Harvey and Alex banter back and forth easily. Like they have been doing it for years. Harvey grasps Mike's elbow bringing him out of his head. The familiar touch quiets Mike’s wayward thoughts. 

“Come on, let's get out of here. I have been thinking about the best fried chicken in town all day.” Harvey smiles. 

“Well, lucky for you, Coops is open today.” 

Harvey nods and the three of them walk out into the afternoon heat. 

Two hours later, Mike once again has a funny feeling like he is missing something. It's not as if he hasn't met any of Harvey's friends before, okay the few he hasn't managed to piss off eternally, still, none of them felt this “familiar”. He refuses to use the other word; the one that speaks of lingering touches and hot wet kisses...nope. He will not allow his brain to even think it, although he feels it. He tries to tell himself he is making more out of this than the situation calls for when he is jarred back into the conversation. 

“If it wasn't for Gordon, you would've gotten your ass kicked out of every club.” 

“Wait, you knew Gordon Specter?” Mike asks, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

Two pairs of eyes turn toward him and it becomes obvious he has missed most of the previous conversation. 

“You just joining us?” Harvey jokes. 

“Sorry, must have zoned out for a bit.” 

“Hell yeah, I knew Gordon,” Alex excitedly tells him. “Got a chance to jam with him back in the day. In fact, that's how I met this dude here.” 

“Don't call me dude.” Harvey automatically responds. 

“Really? How?” Mike asks, genuinely interested. 

“Whatever dude.” Alex smiles. 

Mike bristles. That word, that silly little word falling from Alex’s lips like it belongs there. _Dude._ It feels all types of wrong to Mike. 

“Anyway,” he continues. “Gordon was performing an after-hours set at Lafitte’s. Man was working that sax. I just happened to be there after doing an early evening gig and stayed around to watch. On breaks, he would walk over to a table on the side and talk to this preppy looking kid in a pair of slacks and a tie, looking completely at home. I didn't pay him no mind, I was there for the music. So, when Gordon got back up and started riffing on a classic Miles piece, I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed my horn and joined him on stage.” 

“Wait, I thought you were a lawyer?” 

“I am a lawyer; a damn good one too.” Mike sees Alex cut his eyes briefly over to Harvey, maybe waiting to see if a comment was going to come. Harvey rolls his eyes and tilts his head as if to say continue. 

“Well anyway, I grew up around music and so I would try and catch gigs whenever I could while pursuing my law degree. So that night, I was just drunk enough to think hopping on stage with Gordon with my horn was a good idea. We were playing for a good forty minutes before I saw this preppy kid make his way to the stage and damn near push the piano player from his bench. The boy could play.” Alex has a dreamy faraway look in his eyes. Mike knows it well. He often has the same look when he is remembering something good. 

Mike glances briefly in Harvey’s direction, catching a brief look of fondness; a soft smile on his lips. He returns to face Alex who is in full storytelling mode. 

“So, the three of us jam for another thirty minutes just riffing back and forth. It was awesome. That is until the pissed off piano player Harvey evicted comes back with the bouncer, threatening a good old-fashioned beat down.” 

“I could've taken him” Harvey interjects. 

“Uh huh, you and what army? Back then, you were what? 150 soaking wet? This guy was seriously going to throw your ass out if Gordon hadn't told him you were his kid. Everyone knew Gordon, but no one had met his son from Harvard. After that night, whenever Harvey came to town, we would get together and just play. Those were great times,” Alex chuckles reaching for his beer. 

“Yeah, they were,” Harvey’s voice is soft and tinged with pain. Immediately, Mike wishes Alex would just stop talking, stop reminding Harvey of the past. 

“Wait,” Alex’s words finally catching up to Mike's brain. “Are you telling me you play the piano? I mean, I knew you could play. But really play? Like on stage?” Mike asks Harvey, shocked. 

“What do you think?” Harvey answers, cocky as ever. 

“Learned everything from his dad,” Alex pipes in before continuing, “I miss your old man. Remember what he taught us? Don’t play what’s there...” 

“Play what’s not there,” Harvey finishes. 

They clink beers and for the second time in as many hours, Mike feels like he is on the outside looking in. The electricity flowing between the two men is palpable. So much so that Mike feels like he can't breathe. This, his brain tells him, can't be ignored. 

“Wow, sounds like you guys have great history. Did you go to Harvard law with Harvey?” Mike wonders, trying to change the subject. 

“Me? Harvard? No. I stayed right here. LSU baby. Tried to get my man here to come on down to stay. I showed him all the best spots, introduced him to the best food in the world. Plus, with Gordon being down here…. Thought for sure he would leave his ivory tower. But he turned me down cold.” 

“What can I say, they had something I couldn't get here.” 

“So you said. Well, LSU has something Harvard doesn't.” 

“What's that?” Mike asks. 

“My family and Division 1 football!” 

“True that,” Harvey concedes. “Speaking of. How’s your mom doing?” 

“She’s good. It’d be nice if you come by and say hello while you're in town.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Cool, she’d like that.” Alex finishes his beer and gets up. “Alright, gentlemen, I am out. Mike,” he says outstretching his hand. “Sorry, we didn't get to talk more. I’m sure you were bored out of your mind listening to Harvey and I catch up. But it's really good to finally meet you.” 

 _Finally, meet me?_ “No, it’s cool. It was really good meeting you, too,” Mike answers, shaking Alex’s hand. 

He turns his gaze towards Harvey. “Harvey… look. In case I haven't said this yet, thanks for coming down here. When the shit hit the fan, you were my first call.” 

The man in question nods in lieu of a response. 

“See you both tomorrow.” 

Mike watches Alex leave; a thousand questions running through his brain at a mile a minute. Harvey is absently playing with the rim of his bottle and Mike wonders if now may not be the right time. His head is swimming with Alex’s words, but more importantly the emotions behind them that scream they share history; intimate history. _Harvey is straight, Harvey is straight_ , he keeps telling himself. If that's true though, why does it suddenly feel like he’s not? 

“You ready?” Harvey asks out of nowhere. 

“Yeah, sure. Whenever you are.” Mike grabs his jacket and follows Harvey out into the warm night. 

The walk back is only slightly less muggy than the one over. The silence stretches out between them, like a partition. It's awkward and uncomfortable in ways Mike is unfamiliar with. From the very beginning, Harvey and he shared some type of Batman and Robin, Butch and Sundance thing. Nothing, not even the demands of the job, Rachel, Scottie, or prison could shake it. But now, at this moment, he can feel the beginnings of a widening gap. Funny enough it is shaped like a man; a man named Alex. Maybe this will be the thing that finally breaks apart the band. 

When they reach the hotel, they make quick plans to meet in the morning before making their way over to Proudoux and Folet and Mike heads to his door. After a quick goodnight, he strips off his now sticky clothes and dials the one person he hopes can answer some of the questions running through his mind. 

“Mike? Do you know what time it is?” the voice grumbles. 

“Sorry, but this couldn't wait.” 

“Is everything okay?” She sleepily asks. 

“Honestly, I am not sure.” He takes a steadying breath and dives off the deep end. “Donna, what can you tell me about Alex?” 

~~~~~~ 

That night the dream returns.

 _It’s still colored in shades of grey and black. But now dark blues swirl within the night sky devoid of clouds or stars. Mike is on the gravel path, the unmoving branches lining the way. The same large white monolith of a house in the distance. But that’s where the familiarity ends. Now, there are more sounds accompanying the visions. Words in some indistinguishable language are being whispered or chanted near his ear by people unseen. A drum beat competes with the rising buzzing and chirpings from the inhabitants of this strange forest._

_Once again, he tries to stop himself from going through the door. His arms grip the edges, but the force of several faceless bodies against his back push him across. Here, the chants drop to whispers that ring in time to a rhythmic drum beat. A backdrop to a song he knows, at least he thinks he does. He has heard it before. It’s right on the edge of his consciousness, but for the life of him can't put it all together. Mike looks around, no longer alone as in the previous versions of this dream. Nameless faces, drinking, laughing. He doesn't recognize anyone. He is walking across the grand floor in search of something, someone. If only he could only think. There in the corner. A room curtained off by crimson velvet. That is where he must go. Behind them, loud voices, an argument maybe? Mike can't be sure. He just knows that the truth is in there._ Wait, what? 

Mike wakes to the sound of his alarm blaring. He’s hot and sweaty and feels the beginning of a headache- or is it the end of one? Either way, this day is already shit and he hasn't been up 5 minutes yet. He spent half the night trying to read between Donna’s interpretation of “filling him in”, which instead sounded like a redacted government file. Rubbing his hands across his face, he looks at the sunlight streaming through the room which already feels like it has reached its peak of hot or hell, or something in between. Maybe he can convince Harvey to grab breakfast downstairs before they head over to the firm. The blinking message light on his phone makes him think for some reason that is not going to happen. He pushes the button and Harvey’s gravelly, or as he calls it his “early morning voice” fills the room. 

 _Rookie, needed to get an earlier start than planned. Meet you there. Bring coffee._  

Great, he groans into the empty room. Dumped the first morning. After a quick shower and an interesting 15-minute conversation with the concierge at the lobby, Mike sets off to meet Harvey. “Take the streetcar,” the twenty something year old said. Finally making it to Canal Street, he wonders which street car. After another 20 minutes of getting information from anyone that would stop and listen, Mike grabs two coffees and heads to the business district. When he arrives at the chic offices, he gets directed to a small room where he is issued a temporary ID badge on which he promptly cuts his thumb during the process. Properly identified, he is brought to an office where both Harvey and Alex are surrounded by paperwork. 

“Got started without me, I see,” Mike says entering the room, sucking at the cut that is still trickling a bit of blood. 

“Just doing some prelim work. Don't worry, I saved the tedious details for you,” Harvey looks up then and raises an eyebrow. It takes a moment for Mike to realize his finger is still in his mouth. 

“What? The traitorous badging machine sliced my finger open.” 

“Yeah, Marie has been known to do that sometimes,” Alex chimes in. 

“You named your badging machine Marie? As in Marie Laveau?” 

“Nah, Marie Delphine, the serial killer. Figured after cutting so many people up, she deserved a name worthy of her talents.” 

“Wow.” 

“What's the matter rookie, can't handle the big bad machine?” 

“Funny. I see you didn't escape its claws either,” he says pointing to Harvey’s bandaged finger. 

“No, but I am not the one with his finger in his mouth.” 

“Whatever, at least I am not walking around with a cartoon character around my thumb.” 

“You going to stand there all day or get to work?” 

And in that moment, everything feels back to normal. “Whatever, here’s the coffee you demanded,” handing over one of the cups. 

“Thanks. Not that I need it anymore. But I’ll take it.” 

“Been up that long?” _Stop fishing Mike._  

“Something like that.” 

“Well, you can have them both. I tried it. Doesn't taste like any coffee I know.” 

“That's the chicory,” Alex interjects. 

“The what?” 

“Chicory. A spice we add to our local brews.”  

“You get used to it,” Harvey smiles, taking a sip. 

“I remember when _you_ had to get used to it,” Alex jokes. _And there goes normal,_ Mike thinks. 

“Here. I'll drink it,” Alex grabs the second cup. “I’ll have one of the assistants get you a plain coffee.” 

“Great, thanks,” Mike murmurs, sitting in a nearby chair _._

“Grab a file, Mike. Court is in three days.” 

For the next few days, Mike tries to adjust to this new reality. He wakes up, showers, dresses, and meets Harvey already in action in Alex’s office. He works from sun up to sundown, has dinner- which he has to admit is fantastic, then falls over in bed only to wake up sometime before dawn fighting the last remnants of his strange dream which seems to have decided now is the time to occur repeatedly. When Mike finally manages to find his way back to sleep, the alarm goes off like some sadistic mistress.  

By the time Mike arrives in court on day three, he is tired, cranky and just plain out of sorts. Yes, the case is grueling but not out of league of anything he has seen. Work is work. What makes this case so frustrating is the fact that he is in a strange city, discovering a new side of Harvey and the man behind the unexpected change. It’s unsettling and he hates it. Of course, Mike is furiously trying to ignore the reasons for these feelings. Because if not, he would have to admit that he has more than a crush on his boss and more importantly is jealous. _Harvey is straight, Harvey is straight_ , Harvey has got to be straight. Please let him be straight, he begs any and all deities listening. 

But when the judge grants a two-day continuation for some new last-minute evidence the prosecution presented, all Mike can do is sigh, knowing that he and Harvey will be stuck in New Orleans for at least a few more days. The thought doesn't make him happy.

“Shit!” Alex’s voice echoes in the emptying courtroom. The outburst surprises Mike.

“Hey, it's just a temporary setback.”

Harvey reaches out and grasps Alex’s shoulder holding him still and Mike feels sick. It’s innocent, nothing he hasn't seen Harvey do hundreds of times, but for some reason, this time it seems different; intimate. He wants to look away, afraid his face will portray the jealousy he feels, but his eyes refuse to obey his brain, and he watches the proverbial knife twist a little more as Alex looks at Harvey with raw emotion. 

“Harvey, if this was any other case; any other case. I wouldn't give a shit. But this one, this one is personal. For me, my family and every family that was affected by Katrina. I can't…”

Alex’s voice drifts off, as he starts grabbing at the copious notes scattered on the table in front of him, apparently swallowing emotions that seem so close to the surface.

“Alex, you brought me down here.” Glancing a quick look at Mike, Harvey continues, “brought us down here, because you wanted this closed. Let us do what we do best.”

Alex nods, and Mike feels a little guilty about the way he feels about Alex now that he knows a bit more about how important this case really is. But only a little.

“I got to get out of here. Need to clear my head. Got a gig tonight.” He shoves the rest of his papers in his briefcase and slams it shut. “Thought I would be celebrating,” he says obviously frustrated. “You should come,” he says looking only at Harvey. “I’ll be at Maison’s. Be just like old times. You too, Mike,” as if he just remembered about him.

“We’ll see,” Harvey answers for them both.

Mike does not want to see Alex play tonight; or more accurately, he doesn't want to watch as Harvey takes another trip down memory lane. He also doesn’t want to mope in his hotel room feeling guilty for saying he doesn't want to go. Harvey told him after Alex had left that it was up to him, though it was obvious he wanted to. He could just tell Harvey to go without him, but that would surely lead to spending the night imagining what they were doing every moment, and Mike has a hell of an imagination.

After a quick stop at Johnny Po Boys, Mike lets his better angel talk him into doing the right thing- going with his frien… er, boss to a local jazz club in the quarter. Little does he know that in a few hours it will be a different voice leading him to do the wrong thing.

Maison Bourbon is packed; as in standing room only. Harvey and he find a wall near the stage, to perch for the evening. Alex is already on stage. Mike has to admit Alex is good; like really good. The three men trio seems to play by ear. Mike may not know a lot about jazz, but he knows good music. The band’s taking a break and Mike threads his way to the bar to pick up a couple of beers. This isn't so bad, he tells himself. Nothing to be concerned about. Just two friends…No sooner has he thought the words, he hears Alex’s voice comes across through the speakers.

“Tonight, we have a special guest.”

Mike’s head whips around because he knows, he just knows that somehow this is about Harvey. He abandons his trek to the bar in lieu of returning to the spot where he left Harvey.

“Back in the day, this dude’s dad played all over this town. So tonight, I'd like to play something special for my friend in memory of better times. Harvey, this one is for you.”

The room draws to a hush as the first notes ring out. Mike doesn't recognize the song, but it's slow and bluesy and for lack of a better word soulful. Harvey smiles and his face goes soft as he listens. If Mike was a betting man, he would swear Harvey is lost in some long-gone memory. Mike waits until it's over and the crowd breaks into applause, before leaning over to ask Harvey the name of the song.

“[I fall in love too easily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtM61YPLyC0),” he answers. Mike’s gut drops. “It was one of the pieces we would play together.”

Mike is searching for something to say, but no words come. Before he can string together a thought, Alex is standing in front of them.

“Man, I am so glad you both made it!” he says in lieu of hello.

“Like I would miss a chance to see you play again,” Harvey answers.

Brain successfully rebooted, Mike once again discovers speech. “You guys sound good.” Which is true no matter how bitter the words feel on his tongue.

“Thanks, Mike.” He turns to look at Harvey who is standing with his signature smirk and arms crossed. 

“Well,” he asks, smiling. 

“Dad would be proud.” 

“Aww, you know how he loved him some Miles,” he gushes. “What do you say you come up and do a number with us?” 

“No.” 

“Mike...,” Alex looks at him, his eyes pleading. “...help me out here. Trust me, you want to see him play. Just one song, Harvey.” 

“Alex…” 

But Mike can hear it in Harvey’s voice. This is the version of no that isn't really a no. Alex must know it too because he scampers back up on the stage and speaks to the piano player. 

“Go on, Harvey. Give me something to shove down Louis’ throat,” he encourages. 

“What makes you think I am any good at this?” Harvey jokes. 

“I just got a feeling about this.” 

“Alright, if you say so,” he answers, leaving Mike for the stage. 

A moment later Mike hears a song he does recognize:  [Bye Bye Blackbird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtM61YPLyC0). Mike can't help but remember all the times he has listened to it while working at Harvey’s condo. Just the two of them, bonding over Chinese takeaway, their love of movies and law. But here, here Mike is seeing a side of Harvey he doesn't recognize; didn't even know existed. A side that belongs to someone else. Neither of them has come out and said it, but there is no doubt the two of them have more than just a casual history. It’s obvious in the way Alex looks at Harvey, and more importantly how Harvey looks back at him. Mike can't help but look on as Harvey loses himself in the music- the two of them moving in sync between songs. It becomes too much, and Mike can't watch anymore. The room has become hot and overbearing. He can feel the swell of emotions rising within him. All Mike knows is that he has lost Harvey. Truth be told, maybe he never had a chance. That feeling carries him into the crowded streets. 

Mike has no destination in mind as he is surrounded by the various lights and sounds that fill Bourbon Street. He wanders by more than a few novelty shops, just trying to pass some time.  It isn't until he is standing outside of a Voodoo shop does he feel compelled stop. When he enters, he immediately thinks this something about the place is different. Sure, it’s filled with the requisite tourist souvenir trappings of t- shirts, mugs, candles and plastic talismans offering promises of wealth, fame and love, but the House of Marie Laveau also has something else. Something Mike can't name. Curious, he picks up a plastic skull and crossbones keychain that promises to curse the bearer. He chuckles wondering if he can just slip this to Alex and curse the man.  

“Can I help you?” a young woman with jet black hair and goth makeup asks. 

“No. Just looking around,” he stammers, quickly putting down the small piece of paper and wanders further down the aisle. 

His eyes are drawn to a shelf filled with jarred herbs and oils, labeled spells. He picks up a small bottle labeled ‘love’. _If only it was that simple._ Of course, coming out and telling Harvey he loves him seems a bit more daunting. Before this week, Mike didn't even let himself believe that anything could happen between them because Harvey was straight. Or so he thought. But now, after seeing him with Alex, he isn't quite sure anymore. Which, when translated in Mike’s freakish brain, means that Harvey isn't interested in _him_. Mike sighs and puts the bottle back on the shelf.  Once again that feeling of something different creeps along his skin, his bones. 

“Tout bagay anfom?”  (is everything okay) 

He turns to see an older woman with skin of caramel and freckles looking at him. “What? I am sorry, were you speaking to me?” he asks. 

She nods and her smile broadens. 

“I’m sorry, I don't understand…,” his hands gesturing wildly as if they are the universal translator. 

She pointedly looks at the bottle he was just holding. 

“You looking for love, yes?” 

Embarrassed, Mike quickly shakes his head. “No, I am not.” 

Her eyes scan over his frame, leaving him feeling exposed. “Ah. You've already found love,” she smiles. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles. 

“She doesn't love you back?” 

“Well…,” he stammers, not wanting to correct her. 

“Come,” she insists, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the back of the store, where a few tables and chairs are set up. 

“Sit,” she demands, before taking the chair across from him.  

“Tell me about this love of yours.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, really,” he answers, trying to find a way out. 

“Uh huh… so you say, but I see differently. What is your name?” 

“Uh, Mike.” 

“Okay Mike, I am Evangeline. Here. Sit. Wait.” 

Mike watches her disappear for a moment behind a black curtain. He debates getting up to leave, but doesn't want to be rude. When she comes back, she has an envelope and a small vial in her grasp. She retakes her seat across from him and places the items on the table. 

“This is a gris gris. You might call it a wish. Not just any wish, but one for those with true love in their heart. Do you have true love in your heart Mike?” 

“Look, I appreciate what you are trying to…”

“Mike. Do not let your fear decide for you.”

 “It's not fear, I just don't…”

“Don’t what?” she interrupts once again. “Don't believe? Yes, I can see that. You don't have to believe in me, but I am curious, why you don't believe in you?”

“I believe in me,” he answers defensively. 

“Is that so? Then tell me, Mike, I believe in myself. Why haven't you told your love how you feel?”

Mike’s silence is the only answer he has.

“Like I said. Fear.” Her eyes bore into his. “Do not let fear keep you from your dreams.”

Mike nods.

“Now, I repeat my question. Do you have true love in your heart?”

Yes.” The word slips out between his closed lips.

“Good. Then give me your hand.”

Tentatively, he reaches out to grasp the long fingers waiting for him. Her hand is soft; softer than the many lines and wrinkles would seem to be. She opens the vial and rubs a little of the thick oily substance on the patch of skin between Mike’s thumb and finger, her soft voice murmuring something in the strange language she spoke earlier. When she is done, she pushes the envelope towards him.

“You must be sure you want this. Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Once again, the truth falls from his lips escaping the self-imposed cell he has hidden it in.

“Open the envelope and speak the words written. Once you finish, memorize them.”

Mike does as requested. Evangeline holds his hand the entire time. When he is done, he looks up to await further instruction.

“Have you memorized them?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Mike smiles, “Yes, I am very sure I can remember.”

“Good.”  She snatches up the paper and pulls out a lighter from within the folds of her long skirt. Within seconds, Mike sees the paper curl and burn in front of his eyes; black smoke making his eyes water.

“Now. Go. And when you see the one who holds your heart, drop a little of the oil on your beloved’s skin- say the words. But I must warn you; this will bind you. Do you understand?”

Mike reaffirms his understanding and stands, ready to leave the shop he has spent the last hour in. He doesn't understand the words being spoken in the back of the room. “vle akòde”- wish granted. He also doesn't hear the conversation that follows.

“Eva! Girl, what you doing here?”

“Nothing, just in the neighborhood.”

“I don't see you for weeks and tonight when I come into the shop, I see you talking with some young man who looks like someone stole his puppy. You weren't practicing, were you? You know the rules.”

“Me?” Eva answers. Nah, I was just helping him. He was lost,” she shrugs.

“What am I going to do with you?” the other woman chuckles, walking away.

Mike somehow finds his way back to his hotel, but hesitates going upstairs. Instead, he heads to the bar. There’s a small band in the corner playing jazzed up versions of standards. He grabs a chair at the bar then pulls the vial out of his pocket, spinning it between his fingers. The bartender comes over to take his order. When he brings Mike his drink, he lingers for a moment, looking at the tiny bottle.

“You know,” he says carefully, setting down Mike’s drink. “You should be careful what you wish for.”

Mike takes a sip before answering. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Mike pockets the bottle and grabs the glass. Before he can take a sip, Harvey comes barreling in.

“Mike! Shit, I have been worried sick about you. When I discovered you had left the club, I tried calling.”

 _Oh really? And how long was it before you noticed I was gone, huh._ Mike’s brain silently chastises.

“Why didn't you pick up?”

Mike fishes his phone out of his pocket and sees that it is on silent and that he has missed ten calls. Whoops. Mike sees Harvey’s eyes are red, his jaw tense and that one vein is bulging on the side of his neck. In other words, Harvey is pissed.

“Uh… sorry. I didn't realize my phone was off. I just wanted to get some air and besides, you were still playing and I didn't want to pull you away. You guys sounded great. I mean, I had no idea how well you could play.”

Harvey motions to the bartender. “What, you think that piano in my condo is just for show?” he smiles, then tension draining away, ordering a drink.

“No, I just didn't think you would be that good.”

“Let me tell you something, Junior. I’ve got moves you've never seen.”

“Okay, Julianne. And really? My Best Friend’s Wedding? That's what you’re going with?”

“Seriously though, Mike, where did you go? I was worried.”

Guilt claws at Mike’s consciousness- he decides to ignore it. “What? Like you said. I’m a grown man and how can I get all the way out here and not explore the French Quarter with my own eyes? Besides, who knows, I might have gotten lucky.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? Some hookup?” Harvey asks finishing his drink and motioning over the bartender.

“Maybe,” Mike mumbles finishing his own.

“Uh huh. And how is that working out for you?”

Mike fingers the vial in his pocket. “Well, the night isn't over yet… Who's to say I have given up. I've got my own plans.”

“Plans. Right. Order us another round. Be right back. I gotta hit the head and text Alex I found your skinny ass.”

“Hey, my ass is not skinny,” Mike yells. “Just because it's not all round and perfect like some others,” he murmurs, watching Harvey walk towards the back of the bar. The bartender chuckles softly, pouring another set of two fingers apparently hearing Mike’s grouse.

Ten minutes later and Harvey still hasn't returned. Probably still talking to Alex, Mike silently slurs. He takes a healthy swallow and pulls the vial once again from his pocket setting on the bar roughly, the words he read easily coming to the forefront of his mind. Glancing back towards the bathroom once again (okay, so maybe he has been looking every few seconds), Mike makes a bad decision. Alex may have history, but maybe, just maybe he has magic on his side. Not that he believes in that sort of thing.

He pulls the stopper and takes a quick sniff. Nothing- completely odorless. He thinks for a second about adding it into Harvey's drink, but hesitates. Mike catches the eye of the bartender, who is absentmindedly wiping a glass, his eyes fixed on Mike. The seconds tick by and Mike decides against it. He pours a few drops on his fingers. The liquid is thick and oily. He pours a bit more until his fingers are coated.

“Fuck it,” he sighs.

Mike swallows the rest of the liquid in his glass then empties the vial into the remaining ice cubes. It swirls thickly at the bottom of the round glass.

“What? You couldn't wait for me?”

Harvey’s voice causes Mike to jump, thinking he has been caught. He quickly shoves the now empty vial back in his pocket.

“What?”

Harvey’s long finger points to Mike’s glass.

“I got thirsty?”

“Uh huh,” he answers smiling. “Look at you, trying to outdrink me.”

“Please,” Mike drawls. “Do I need to remind you who threw up in Louis’ plant the last time we had that discussion?”

“You mean the night I had food poisoning?” Harvey answers, starting on his drink.

“You seriously don't think I bought that, right?” Mike chuckles.

“What? It's the truth,” Harvey counters, emptying his glass. “At least I don't waste good liquor,” he continues, grabbing Mike’s glass and downing the liquid.

“Harvey don't!” Mike panics, reaching for the glass.

“Too slow, should have finished it when you had the chance.” he answers licking his lips.

Oh fuck. What does he do now? What did the woman say would happen? Shit! Nothing should happen if he didn't say the words, right? He thought them just by chance but Harvey was in the bathroom when he did, so no harm done, right? Still, Mike is starting to panic, his pulse racing. He is so lost in thought, he doesn't hear Harvey talking to him.

“Mike, you okay?”

“Huh? I mean yes.”

“Good.”

“One more?”

“Um...” Maybe it will dilute it, he thinks hopefully. “Sure.”

Harvey’s face breaks out in a grin that brings out the crinkles around Harvey’s eyes. Mike loves that look. All he can do is stare while listening to Harvey order two more with a guarantee they are not driving.

“Can you believe that guy?” Harvey asks incredulously. Mike doesn't respond, still lost in the gold flecks that surround Harvey’s brown irises.

“Mike, you still with me?”

“Absolutely,” he slurs.

“Just checking. Thought maybe you were thinking of...” Harvey cuts himself off, picking up his new glass and taking a sip.

“Thinking of what? What were you going to say?” Mike asks.

“It’s nothing, Mike. Really.”

“How come I don't believe you?” he asks scooting closer, “Come on, you can tell me,” Mike teases.

“Mike… You know what. Never mind. Why don't you finish your drink and go back out there and do whatever it is you were going to do when you left me earlier.”

“And what was I going to do?” he asks.

“Hell, if I know! You’re the one that said you were looking for a hookup. For all I know you still want that.”

“Right, cause that's why I broke up with my fiancée, for some random hook up in another state,” he says wryly finishing his drink. “Is that the type of guy you think I am, Harvey?” he asks indignantly.

“I don't know, Mike. what the hell do I know? One minute, we are kicking ass as Batman and Robin and the next thing I know the roof caves in. I don't even recognize us anymore.”

“I haven't changed, Harvey. If anything, I am more me than ever. I'm not going anywhere.”

“And yet you feel further away.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Harvey answers.

The band starts up again and Mike swears the universe or something is working against him, or is it for him? The Etta James classic [I just want to make love to you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJiL5siOqqw) feeding heat into the bar.

“Tell me...” Mike implores. His voice rough with need he can't seem to hide.

“God Mike, you have no idea, do you?”

Harvey’s pupils are blown wide and Mike can swear he can feel his own heart trying to burst through his chest.

"Tell me,” Mike whispers.

Harvey’s eyes flit down to Mike’s lips before returning to his eyes.

“I think...maybe I’d like to…”

Mike can't seem to stop himself from leaning in even closer, “Like to what, Harvey?”

Harvey raises his glass, and runs his tongue across the rim. Mike licks his lips as he watches the glass tip back, the last dregs of liquid pass beyond plump lips, and a pale throat bobbing seductively with long swallows. Mike feels a tightening in his pants, and a craving to lick and suck the neck in front of him.

Harvey’s eyes haven’t left his. When his glass is empty, he slowly places it back on the bar. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shift of his head towards Mike’s glass, Mike gets the hint.

Mike smiles, raises his glass in a silent salute, and tips his own glass back. Harvey takes the empty glass from Mike’s hand, his fingers brushing up against Mike’s a tad longer than necessary, then licks his lips.

“I think, I’d like to… show you.”

If Mike had been paying attention, he might have heard the new song being played. Maybe he would have heeded the warning that came with the melody. But Mike is lost when the first haunting chords of [Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fzZ4l2H5-w) ring out. The truth is that all Mike can see in this moment is Harvey. All he can feel is a need for the man looking at him with fire in his eyes. Mike’s heart is racing, and nothing, no rational thought, no premonition or warning can stop the words that fall from his lips next.

“Show me, then.”

Harvey rises, and Mike doesn't think twice. Harvey could be walking them to the very depths of Dante's Hell, and Mike would follow. This, whatever this is, is no different. Mike rises, ready to go wherever Harvey is willing to take him.

The elevator ride is endless, or maybe time itself is slowing. The air is thick with want; the scent of desire clogs Mike’s throat and coats his lungs. He knows they should talk, should take some time to examine if this is really what they want, or if it is merely the alcohol fueling a bad decision. But when the door closes behind them, and Harvey’s eyes go dark and feral, there are no words left to be said.

Harvey’s lips are soft and demanding. Mike moans at the first brush of Harvey’s tongue against his own and their kiss deepens. From there it is a mad dash of fumbling limbs that attempt to remove every barrier that stands between the two of them. Nips and bites marking the path from friends to lovers. Only when Mike feels the coolness of sheets against his back, Harvey’s weight covering his own and the slide of flesh against flesh does his brain registers what is about to happen.

“Jesus, Mike, I can't… I need…” Harvey’s motions are quick and jerky, like he is losing control.

Mike can feel the raw hunger, waves of heat coming from Harvey’s skin. He understands completely. He is so hard, wants Harvey so much, he can't stop now, even if he wanted to.

“Shit, Harvey...,” he murmurs, as Harvey's mouth sucks a bruise so deep at his neck he knows there will be no way to hide it. He doesn't care. Mike is hot, so hot. Each touch burns with a need he has never experienced. His skin feels like it is on fire and Harvey is the only thing that can quench it.

“Harvey…” Mike doesn't recognize his own voice. It’s breathy and full of raw need. There are so many things he wants to say, but his brain goes offline as Harvey’s fingers traipse up his shaft which is hard and straining between them looking for friction.

“Yes. I'm right here,” Harvey smirks. Rough hands grasp his cock that feels harder than ever to his sex-riddled brain.

Mike holds on to the sheets, unfiltered moans bubbling up from some place deep within him. Then, for a moment, everything stops. He glances down to where Harvey sits between his legs. His eyes are wide and full of something Mike dares not name.

“Mike...” The plea is broken, so unlike the man Mike knows.

He moans his response. Harvey’s mouth engulfs him and Mike drowns. Wet heat licking and sucking and taking. And Mike is lost in sensation, his hips bucking up into that hot cavern that feels like heaven and hell. 

“Harvey..., oh God. Yes, please. I need…” Mike stutters riding the razor’s edge of pleasure.

His lips release Mike with a wet pop, “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Harvey’s fingers burn a trail down Mike’s length, then further below towards his opening.

Harvey is staring at him with a gaze that is nothing short than predatory and oh so dangerous. In other words, Harvey is looking at him like he is prey.

“Fuck,” Mike pants.

“Yes,” Harvey growls. “Can I?  I need to have you, Mike. Don't make me stop. Let me fuck you and make you mine.”

There is no other answer, “Yes.”

Mike isn't prepared for Harvey once again attacking his lips, feasting on them, like they hold the answers to every question he ever had. The kiss is rough, Harvey’s tongue plundering in deep. And just as fast, he releases Mike, climbing off the bed.

“Be right back.”

Mike is about to protest, his brain slow to understand what Harvey is doing. Harvey retreats to the bathroom only to return with a bottle of lube and condoms. A brief rush of jealousy flares in Mike's chest, knowing those items weren't brought for him. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Planning on getting lucky this trip, Specter?”

“Haven't you learned nothing from me? Always be prepared. Besides, I wasn't the one out looking for a hookup.”

“Hey...I was just taking in the view.”

Harvey grazes his eyes across Mike’s naked flesh.

“So am I. Now come here.”

Something unfurls deep inside Mike at Harvey’s words and he spreads his legs wider, inviting him in. Harvey crawls up Mike's body, seeking out his lips. This time the kiss is tender- a whisper of a promise. Mike sighs and surrenders.

Lube slicked fingers breach and stretch him. It could be seconds or minutes. Mike can't tell because Harvey is once again swallowing him down, overwhelming his senses in pleasure. And just when his orgasm is merely a heartbeat away, Harvey pulls off.

“Dammit, Harvey, if you don't…”

Mike doesn't finish his thought as Harvey lines up and pushes in slowly, until he is completely seated balls to ass. Their mutual groans echoing off the walls. Harvey stills and Mike can honestly say he has never felt so full in his life.

Harvey is staring at him, like he is the only thing in the world and Mike can't hide from those eyes; can't stop the emotions from slipping through. He loves this man. This has been true from the moment he met him. Tears prickle at the corners of Mike’s eyes as he holds on to Harvey, lost in some sort of spell. His vision goes fuzzy while the moment stretches between them, surreal and real at the same time. Harvey leans down and the kiss is different than all of the others. Not rushed or fueled by need, but one that is soft, tender and full of reverence. Mike pulls him in closer, deepening the kiss, causing Harvey to shift further inside of him. They both groan, breaking the spell.

“Harvey… move.”

Harvey rolls his hips and moans deeply.

“Oh God, Mike, you feel so good. So fucking tight. I swear I am going to tie you to this bed and fuck you all night.”

Mike closes his eyes as the images wash over him. 

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I don't care, I’m yours.”

“Damn right you are.”

~~~

When the lazy Louisiana sun finds its way beneath Mike’s eyelids, it brings with it the mother of all hangovers. Mike feels fuzzy, spent; his head swimming. He tries to roll over, but something heavy is preventing him from moving. He cracks open one eye, and slowly looks down. A head of brown hair slowly comes into focus. He carefully opens the second, taking a few deep breaths while the room around him plays tilt a whirl. He tries gingerly to pry loose the arms holding him loose so he can walk, maybe crawl to the bathroom.

Said arms tighten around him, halting his progress. “No”, comes a warm grumble against his skin. Harvey.

Mike doesn't know if this is a dream come true or a nightmare. Regardless, his bladder is still talking to him, whispering words like f _ull, now,_ and _embarrassing accident you will never recover from_. With a grunt, Mike extricates himself and pads to the bathroom. His body hurts, well, everywhere, his skin is covered in purple and red bruises. After washing his hands, he returns to where Harvey is still sleeping. Harvey’s skin mirrors his own, littered with love bites, Mike’s marks. He smiles, remembering round after round of pleasure. The sex was mind blowing. He came so many times, he must have passed out. God, it was as if neither of them could stop, both burning up with an all-consuming need that he didn't think would ever be sated. After a quick glance at the clock, he realizes that he is late, they both are.

“Shit. Harvey.” He reaches out to shake the man who is currently sprawled across the entire bed.

“What.”

“Good morning to you, too, grumpy. Get up, Harvey. We overslept. We are so late.”

“I think we did more than oversleep, Rookie.”

Mike smiles, heat blooming deep within his chest. “I think that's an understatement counselor,” Mike teases.

Harvey’s brown eyes twinkle. At least, as much as is possible through the frowned lines of pain. “Ugh…I feel like someone has been beating on my head. You see my phone anywhere?”

Mike quickly spots the offending device that has been surprisingly quiet on the floor near a pile of their mixed clothes. He picks up his pants and grabs the phone.

“Heads up,” he tosses the phone on the bed near Harvey's head.

“What, no good morning kiss?” Harvey grumbles.

Mike leans over to the naked man who’s looking up at him from beneath the sheets - morning breath be damned, he brushes his lips against Harvey’s. Harvey hums and deepens the kiss.

“You…” he murmurs against Mike’s lips. “You were incredible. If we had the time, I would take a morning meeting. And trust me, your attendance would be required,” he whispers huskily.

Mike moans, the heat he felt last night starting to rise beneath his skin. He can't stop himself from falling. Back into bed, back into Harvey. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows if he doesn’t stop, there will be no work, no office, no anything but heat, and entangled limbs filled with want. He can feel his cock lengthen and grow damp at the very thought. But a noise startles him. Something has fallen out of one of his pockets. He breaks the kiss, his eyes fluttering open and looking down, searching for the item that interrupted them.

“Huh, must have rolled under the bed,” he comments offhandedly seeing nothing.

“Good. Now, where were we.” Harvey purrs, voice rough with want, with need. Mike is being pulled back into bed, object forgotten.

Two hours later, when their bodies are once again bathed in the sheen of sweat and sex, Mike is the voice of reason.

“Harvey, we have got to get up. One, we need food,” to which Harvey scoffs. “Okay, so I need food. And we could probably use a shower.”

“Fine, princess. How about you order up some room service while I call Alex and make up a reason why we are both late.”

And just what are you going to tell Alex that will make him ignore the marks on us that clearly say we got busy last night?”

“Got busy? Even I know that phrase is out of style.”

Mike pumps his fist in the air in a circular motion chanting “whoop, whoop.”

“Arsenio, you ain't. Order the grub and meet me in the shower.”

Mike grins and rolls over grabbing the phone. While he waits for room service to pick up, he remembers he wanted to look for whatever it was that rolled under the bed. Crawling on his knees he can just see the glint of something. Reaching in deep, he grabs hold of the small object. Before he can bring it from the depth of dust bunnies, his brain has already filled in the blank. He knows exactly what he will see when his hand emerges- a small bottle- the bottle that held the potion he got at the voodoo shop. He brings it up into the light- it's empty. Of course, it's empty, his brain chastises, you poured it out. He remembers touching it, feeling it, then touching his glass, drinking from it. The same glass Harvey also drank from. Panic grips Mike. What if…

“Hey, you coming in here or what?” Harvey calls from the bathroom. I am getting lonely.”

Mike tells himself that voodoo doesn't exist, that it’s pure coincidence that he and Harvey fell into bed last night and again this morning. That there is no way that the heat he felt, the raw need he succumbed to was induced by some sort of spell. He has wanted Harvey long before they came to New Orleans. But does Harvey feel the same?

“Better hurry before I use all the hot water,” Harvey continues.

“I’m coming,” Mike answers.

“If you hurry, you will be.”

 _Shit, shit, shit._ Mike grabs his clothes and goes to the bathroom door.

“Hey Harvey, they are backed up. I’m going to head down and pick up our order.”

He waits for Harvey’s response. “Alright, but next time, I expect you to be wet and naked in here with me.”

Mike groans at the image, then gets a hold of himself.

“Deal. Be right back.”

With those words, he finishes dressing and runs out of the room like he stole something. And there is a part of him that wonders if he did just that- steal something, like Harvey’s choice.

Mike runs to his room, his head spinning far worse than when he first woke. He breaks out in panic and he can't stop the bile from rising in his throat. In a mad dash, he makes it into the bathroom in time to vomit up the shame, guilt, as well as the contents of his stomach. When he is done, he leans his head against the toilet bowl, the coolness easing him slightly.

“What have I done?” he cries out loud.

~~~

A couple of hours later, Mike walks slowly into the conference room where Harvey and Alex are huddled together- he assumes discussing the next phase of the case. He feels like shit. He sent a quick text to Harvey this morning when he could hold his head up, telling him he would meet him at the office and that breakfast was on its way. He just needed some time to wrap his mind around what happened. Figure out if it was real or not. Did he coerce Harvey into thinking he wanted him? It couldn't be that. Magic. There's no such thing as magic, he tells himself sternly. Unfortunately, after a hot shower and three cups of the strongest coffee he could stomach- turns out chicory coffee wasn't bad after all- he still didn't feel any better. And now, noticing Harvey doesn’t even acknowledged him, he fears he just made things worse.

“You look like shit, Mike,” Alex states, a small smirk on his lips.

“Uh well, sorry I had a rough night.” He purposely doesn't look at Harvey, shame reverberating through him.

“Uh huh, that’s what Harvey said when he walked in. Funny, he didn't seem to be having a bad night before he left the club. You two got into something?” he asks.

“Nah, just probably a little too much to drink. Hey uh... You think we can have the room a moment?”

“Yeah,” he answers, looking back and forth between the two of them wearily. “I’ll just leave you two to it.”

Mike waits until Alex leaves before walking to stand across from Harvey.

“Hey.”

“What is it, Mike?”

“I just want to say sorry for this morning. I wasn't feeling well and I...”

“Look, don't worry about it.”

Harvey still hasn't looked at him. “Harvey, I just needed to…”

“Needed to what?” Harvey’s hard gaze reaches his own. Except this time there's a different type of fire in them. One full of anger and behind that hurt and confusion. “Run out? Face it, Mike. You got scared like some little girl who got drunk and gave up her virginity.”

“Harvey that's not…”

“You know what, I really don't give a shit. So why don't you get to work. I want to wrap this case up as soon as possible and get back to New York,” Harvey stands and pushes past him.

 _Fuck,_ he whispers to no one.

The rest of the day is spent reading through case files from every suit related to Katrina. The hours fly by. He looks up when Alex comes by to remind them they have court tomorrow and to not be late. He smiles weakly at him.

“I’ll be there.”

“You better be. Goodnight Mike.”

“Goodnight.”

Mike returns to the papers in front of him. When he stops and stretches, night has fallen. He briefly looks around for Harvey, hoping to avoid him until he can get this figured out. When he realizes he is alone, he packs up for the day and heads to Bourbon Street. The small shop is brightly lit and filled with tourists. Mike makes his way towards the back, looking for the old woman he met last night.

“Can I help you?” a saleswoman asks cheerily.

“Um, I am looking for someone. Someone who works here.”

“I work here.”

“I mean someone else. There was a different woman here last night. She gave me... something. I just want to ask her about it.”

“What did she give you?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Um… Is there someone else here?”

“Shah, I am the only one working evenings this week. You sure it was this store? You know N’Awlins has more than one Voodoo shop in the quarter.”

“No, it was here. I’m sure.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell you.”

“Never mind. I mean, thanks.”

“Sure, honey. Good luck to you now. Hope you find what you're looking for.”

“Yeah,” he says, defeated. Me, too.

His hotel room feels cold. As he climbs into bed, Mike can't help but remember the night before. Large hands caressing his skin, the feel of Harvey beside him, on top of him, inside him. His body aches with the loss and he cradles his pillow, wishing for once his stupid memory would fail. He doesn't know when he went to sleep, but he knows it was late. Mike’s body feels heavy, but nothing compared to the heaviness of his heart.

When morning comes, he diligently dresses and heads to the courthouse. Once there, he and Harvey work the courtroom in a well-rehearsed dance, Alex providing the human touch of a man who lived through the hell all the victims of Katrina had experienced. After it’s over, they sit down to wait. Harvey leaves to take care of business- which Mike interprets as not wanting to be anywhere near him, leaving him alone with Alex. As they sip on stale coffees, Alex is the first to break the silence.

“So, want to tell me what’s going on with the two of you?”

“What?”

“Don't play stupid. Something definitely has happened between you two and that was before you both walked in looking like chew toys.”

“Look. Nothing happened. Okay. Can you just drop it?”

“Yeah sure. For now.” He gives Mike’s knee a quick squeeze then leaves him alone with his own thoughts.

The verdict comes within the hour. No one could have guessed the outcome; that a group of citizens could take on the city, the state and government and win. But win they did. Mike smiles, caught up in the enthusiasm of the room. He looks over at Harvey who is smiling and congratulating Alex.

“Oh shit, Harvey. I can't thank you enough for coming down here,” Alex embraces the older man before turning to Mike. “You too, Mike. Having you two down here really made this happen. You have no idea how much this means to me, my family, this community.”

“It was our pleasure. Congratulations, Alex.”

Harvey steps off to the side, pulling out his phone while Alex walks around hugging all those he has represented. Mike watches with reserved enthusiasm. What happens now that the case is over? There is no way he can go back and pretend everything is fine. Harvey hangs up and catches his eye before looking away quickly.

"You know what this means, don't you?” Alex’s voice booms in the near empty courtroom.

“No.”

“Come on, Harvey, you know you can't deny me this. Besides, you still haven't seen mom.”

“No,” Harvey repeats.

Mike wonders what he has missed.

“Harvey, one more night, that's all I am asking. It would mean so much to me, for all of us, for you both to be there.”

“Be where?” Mike asks.

“This calls for a celebration, Mike. If I know my mom, she is going to invite the whole neighborhood. And you two better be...”

“Alex, _you_ did this. You don't need us there,” Harvey interrupts.

Alex walks up close to Harvey before speaking intently. “Harvey, I know how much you want to get back home, get away from whatever has happened,” his eyes quickly glance towards Mike. “All I am asking for is one more night. See this to the end. For me.”

Mike watches emotions flicker across Harvey’s face and knows Alex has won this round. Harvey nods his agreement and Mike lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

Alex grins. “You're the man, Harvey, I’ll text you guys the deets,” he shouts before bounding out the courtroom.

“Harvey, about...” Mike starts.

“Not now, Mike. Maybe when we get back we can talk.” Conversation over, he picks up his briefcase and leaves Mike alone in the courtroom. Mike decides to try one more time to find the strange woman who started this whole mess. But just like yesterday, she is not in the shop. He does happen to see the goth girl who was here that night in the back of the shop.

“Hey, do you remember me?

“No, should I?”

“No, but. I was here the other night and I remember seeing you here.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There was this older woman who came up and talked to me. She spoke creole or Patois. Do you know where I can find her?”

“That could have been half a dozen people. Why are you looking for this woman anyway?”

“She gave me something. A potion or spell and I need to reverse it.”

“Uh huh... So, let me get this straight. You met a stranger who gave you something that was supposed to be magic and you believed her and tried it.”

“Accidentally.”

“Well, good luck. Most people in the Quarter are here trying to make a buck like anywhere else. They will sell you a stick from their back yard and call it a root if they think someone will buy it. But if you did come across a real voudon, then there is something in you that called to her and something you needed. Sometimes fate and destiny are just that. Good luck, dude.”

“Don't call me dude.” Harvey’s phrase rolls easily off his tongue.

She shrugs and walks away. Mike’s cell goes off; incoming text from Harvey.

_Tonight, 10 pm. Meet me in the lobby. Formal Dress. Oh, and bring your ID card for the firm, we need to return them._

_Shit, where am I going to get something formal in the next 6 hours?_ He wonders. He heads back to the hotel, never once noticing someone was watching him, peeking through the small split between the curtains at the back of the store.

Turns out that New Orleans is something like New York. If you ask the right person, you can get almost anything.  At 9:50 Mike is in the lobby dressed in a crisp new dark grey suit, courtesy of Alex’s firm. Harvey is in the bar. He is wearing a black semi-formal suit and a white shirt. The suit hugs his body easily, making Mike’s mouth water.

Harvey’s eyes light up briefly, before he seems to catch himself. “Well, you're not late.”

“Do you know where we are going?” He asks, trying to play it cool.

"No, I just have an address. You ready?”

“Yep,” he answers popping the ‘p’.

They climb in the taxi and head out to towards the outskirts of town. 

“Awful late for a party,” he says making small talk.

Harvey grunts, “It’s New Orleans, Mike, it's a twenty-four hour city.”

“I guess.” Mike is silent the rest of the ride, unease growing within him. They turn off the highway towards a small road. The sign reads Evergreen Plantation. As the road twists and turns deeper into the bayou, Mike can see the tree lined road beneath the moonlight. It mirrors the one in his recurring dream. They turn onto it. Gnarled branches with webs of moss drape over the edges of the road. Mike's eyes widen and his breath catches, fear creeping along his spine.

“Mike, are you okay?”

Harvey’s voice sounds like it's far away, or muffled. Blood is rushing in his ears as the large plantation comes into view off in the distance. Mikes breaths are coming out in short pants. Harvey’s hand on his knee brings him back.

“Hey, Mike, look at me. Are you okay? You're pale and shaking. What’s wrong?”

Mike turns to look at Harvey. He is frowning and has a look of worry in his eyes.

“I’m...I’m fine,” he stutters.

“You're sure?”

“Yeah,” he answers trying to convince himself more than Harvey. “Where are we going anyway?” he asks, his voice stronger than he feels.

“Eva rented out one of the old plantations. She always did like to throw big parties and cotillions.”

“Eva?”

“Alex’s mom. Are you sure you're okay?” he asks again as they pull up to the front.

“Enjoy your evenin’ gentleman, the driver drawls as they exit into the humid night. Another reminder of the dream that has haunted him for months.

Mike is dwarfed by the large antebellum home on [Evergreen Plantation](http://neworleansplantationcountry.com/plantations/evergreen-plantation) with its dual circular staircases and large columns. _It’s right out of a movie,_ he thinks. He walks through the entrance and his senses are assaulted by the opulence. Crystal champagne glasses are offered to them beneath the entry way chandeliers. A jazz trio plays in one room while the formal buffet they are told is in another. The rooms are filled with people all dressed to the nines.

Alex emerges from the crowd to greet them. “There you are- the guests of honor!” he calls out to the crowd.

“It was all you, Alex. Your heart, your soul. You did this.”

“Shut your mouth,” he embraces Harvey in a large hug before turning to Mike. “And you, Boy Wonder. I don't know how you keep up with this one, but I am forever grateful that you do.” He grabs Mike into a quick bro hug, then pushes them both deeper into the room.”

“Oh, before I forget, did you bring your ID cards. Need to get them back to the firm. Don't want anyone stealing our secrets,” he winks.

Mike and Harvey hand them over, watching him stuff them in his pocket.

“Now y’all enjoy yourselves, there is plenty of food and drinks. And Harvey, don't think that mom is going to let you get away with not seeing her.”

"I wouldn't dream of it. Where is she?”

“Probably in the kitchen. You know how she is, got to tell everyone else how to cook.”

He smiles then, a real one. Mike realizes he has missed that smile. In fact, he is missing everything about Harvey.

“I’m going to say a quick hi. Try not to get into any trouble, while I am gone,” his voice tense.

Harvey disappears through another door and Mike wanders around towards the food. He stops dead in his tracks when he hears the melody, the same one that has been the soundtrack for his dream. He recognizes it now. [I Put a Spell on You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TrSMaOZm3Y). The room starts to sway a little and he stretches out a hand to steady himself. He needs to get away, needs to get out and clear his head. Something bad is going to happen, he just knows it.

“You okay honey? You don't look so good.”

Mike turns to face the person who slipped in to sit beside him.

“You! I have been looking all over for you. I need your help.”

She smiles. “What is it? Did my _gift_ work?”

“Yes,” he sputters, “I mean no. I mean, I need you to reverse whatever it was.”

“Why? From the looks of things,” she tilts her head and Mike flushes at the thought of her seeing the mark on his neck his collar couldn't completely cover, “it seems to have worked extremely well.”

“Well, it didn't. I don't want him. Not like this. I won't force him to feel something he doesn't.”

“Child, you should know you really can't force people to feel anything they don't already have a propensity for.”

“It doesn't matter. I love him. But if he doesn't feel the same, I will live with that. It's better than thinking I took his choice away.”

She looks at him, her eyes unwavering. “You mean this, don't you? You would rather live without him than wonder if he was compelled.”

Mike drops his head. “Yes.” The word falls from his lips like a confession, heavy and true.

“So be it.” She pats his hand before rising. Leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

 _He can do this,_ he thinks. He can rebuild their friendship, start over. A terse conversation in the distance catches his attention. Harvey’s voice, clipped, terse, angry. He cocks his head trying to determine where the voices are coming from. He spots a long red velvet curtain. The voices seem to be coming from behind them. A wave of vertigo attacks his senses as the curtain reminds him of the one from his dream. But he refuses to let it stop him. He knows he has to go and find out what is going on.

_It doesn't matter, Alex._

_Harvey, you are being irrational. Why are you fighting this?_

_I'm not fighting anything. I came down here to help you. Not fall in love._

Mike’s ears perk up, jealousy stirring deep in his gut _._

_I promised myself when I walked away from you all those years ago I wouldn't…_

_Wouldn't what? Allow yourself to feel again? Fall again? Maybe this time..._

_Stop. It's over._

_But it just started. Did you tell him how you feel?_

Silence.

_Harvey, if you don't…_

_“Don't what?_

Mike can't remember walking into the room where the two of them have been talking, but there they are, Alex holding Harvey’s arm preventing escape. “What’s going on in here?” he asks.

Harvey’s eyes grow wide briefly before jerking his arm out of Alex’s hand and turning to leave.

“Harvey?”

“Let him go, Mike.”

“What the hell is going on? What did you do?” Mike accuses.

“What did _I_ do? Don't you think I should be asking you that?” he glares back.

Mike looks away unable to meet Alex’s eyes; guilt washing over him.

“I have known that man over a decade. Hell, I have loved him for almost the same amount of time. I would have given almost anything to be his once upon a time. But he didn't choose me,” Alex finishes.

“Well, he didn't choose me either,” Mike grumbles sourly.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks.

“Yes… are you sure?” A third voice enters the room- one Mike recognizes.

“Seriously? I’ve spent the last two days trying to find you and now I see you twice in a matter of minutes.”

“You’ve met my mom?”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah. Mike Ross, my mother Evangeline Williams.”

“Eva,” she smiles. “And yes, we have already met.”

“Really,” Alex wonders skeptically, his eyes narrowing.

“You could have warned me,” Mike grumbles, his voice with a tinge of anger. “Now I have messed things up.” Mike can't stop his voice from rising in frustration.

“What are you talking about?”

Mike sighs, fatigue wearing on him. “I met your mom at a voodoo shop the night you had your gig. She gave me a love potion, and I didn't mean to use it. I really didn't. But…” Mike’s voice trails off.

Alex turns to look at his mom.

“What,” she demures. “He was looking lonely, I just wanted to help the poor boy.”

Mike chuckles sarcastically. “Thanks.”

“Besides,” she teases. “It was nothing more than a little extra virgin olive oil and crushed lavender.”

“Wait, what? But Harvey and I, I mean we…”

“Mom, how could you? You know better.” Alex warns not too harshly.

“What? It's not like they weren't heading in that direction. Even you could see that. They just needed a little push.” She grasps Alex’s face in her hands. “You know I speak the truth.”

“So that means that Harvey really wanted…”

Alex smiles coyly. “You both are idiots.”

Mike grins. “Not the first time I have heard that. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Treat him well Mike, don't make me come to New York to find you.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

Mike has no idea how big the house is. All he does know is that every time he turns around, he is in a room he hasn't been in before. It isn't until he hears the tinkling keys of a lone piano, does he know he has found Harvey. He enters the room quietly, afraid of interrupting.

“Now that I have heard you play, I don't think I could ever get tired of it,” he says softly from just inside the door.

Harvey stops but doesn't look up. Mike steps up to the piano leaning against it lightly.

“Harvey. I am sorry. I was afraid that you didn't want...”

“I thought I made it very clear what I wanted that night. More than once.”

“I wasn't sure. It just seemed to happen so fast.”

“Fast? We have been working together for what- six years now.”

“Yes, and until two nights ago, I had no idea you would even look at me. I mean, it's not as if I have ever seen you or heard you talk about a male someone. Well, not until we came here and I met Alex. Saw the way you two acted. Then I knew. It was so obvious there was something between you. Something more than friends. I was so jealous,” he admits. 

“So that night, when we...it felt like it came out of nowhere. I started thinking maybe you were conflicted because of Alex or maybe just drunk, or maybe I thought I gave youamagicpotionorsomething,” he rambles that last bit.

“Alex and I were over years ago. We have remained friends. Wait, what was that last bit?”

“Nothing.”

“Mike…”

“Maybe I might have accidentally bought a love potion and we both might have accidentally ingested it the night we… you know.”

“So you are saying you drugged me?”

“No. I mean, not really? It wasn't on purpose. But after that night, I didn't want to take any chances. I mean, I knew I loved you but I wasn't sure if you felt anything for me. And if you did, I didn't want it to be because of some potion or magic or whatever. I wanted it to be real. And then I found out it was Eva who sold it to me and tonight she told me it was just olive oil or something.”

“Eva? As in Alex’s mom? You know she is a real voodoo priestess.”

“She told me it was harmless!”

“You know you're an idiot, right?” He smiles.

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Mike mumbles, lowering his head.

Harvey rises from the bench and leans into Mike. “But you're my idiot,” he whispers leaning in to brush his lips against Mike’s.

“Definitely your idiot.” he smiles against Harvey’s lips.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

“Love to.”

 

 

 


	2. Epilogue- the back story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's story

Alex sits on the porch swing on the veranda, his eyes looking at a memory.

 _Him and his buddies, instruments in hand had wandered into an underground jazz spot, where the drinks were cold and the music was hot. On stage were a couple of locals on skins, keys, and vocals. But in the back, was someone he had heard of but never seen play- Gordon Specter. He was blowing the hell out of a saxophone. Alex remembers being mesmerized by the soulful sounds. Before he knew it, he was grabbing his own horn and heading to the stage, moved by the music._

_By the third song, they were in tandem, in harmony. He thought it couldn't get any better. But that all changed when this skinny kid wormed his way onto the stage and pushed Leon off the piano. Alex thought for sure this was getting ready to get ugly. Move another man off his own instrument. A no name at that? Hell no. But there he was, smiling like the cat that got the cream. He looked up to the man beside Alex and smiled and Alex could have sworn he stopped breathing. He definitely stopped playing for a minute- so caught up in that smile. Then his fingers drifted over the keys. Alex doesn't remember anything sounding so sweet. For the next thirty minutes, the three of them riffed from slow bluesy numbers to Zydeco and everything in between. And by the time they left the stage- Alex was in love._

_As they sat down to catch their breath, Alex watched the young man pull Gordon into a hug before turning to introduce himself._

_“Hey, nice horn. I’m Harvey. Harvey Specter.”_

_“Alex,” he answered back a little out of breath. “Alex Williams.”_

 

“There you are!” His mom’s voice brings him back to the present.

“What you doing out here, Shah?” 

“Nothing Maman. Just… reminiscing.”

“Mm, hmm,” she answers, sitting down to swing with him.

“He looks good, you know.”

“I guess.”

“You guess. You ain't fooling no one. I remember that night you came home. Or shall I say morning, since you and your friends were out half the damn night. All out of breath, with stars in your eyes. You had the biggest grin on your face and told me about how you played up on stage and met someone named Harvey. I knew right then and there my baby had fallen in love.”

“I did not.”

“Who you trying to fool? The two of you were thick as thieves back then.”

“Well, it didn't last.”

“Not every love story is a forever one. That doesn't mean your paths are separate, in fact, your paths cross more often and in more ways than you even realize. They are just not intertwined as soulmates tend to be. Remember what I told you, when he left?”

“Yes. That in your dreams you saw him with someone else; that he had a different path to walk.”

“Those words were true then as they are today.”

“Was Mike the one you saw in your dreams?”

“Truth be told, I didn't know who was the face in the dream then, but lately when they started up again, it was his face I saw.”

“And what about me? What do your dreams tell you about my future?”

“You know I can't tell you that. Just know that your future is out there. And when it comes, it will be all you wish for.”

Alex lays his head on his mom’s shoulder, enjoying the late Louisiana breeze.

“By the way, I know you lied tonight,” he says softly.

“What you say.”

“Olive oil and crushed lavender? That mix hides scent and taste. Did you really give Mike a love spell?”

“Of course not.”

He turns, piercing her with a look of scrutiny.

“It was just a little truth spell,” she answers guiltily. “Something to take off the blinders they were both hiding behind.”

“Wait. Didn’t you once tell me a truth spell requires blood? How did you get that?”

 “Hmm? Well, maybe I had a little help from Marie.”

“Who?”

She reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the temporary ID badges for one Mike Ross and Harvey Specter. The same ones they cut themselves on when they first arrived.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he laughs.

“Well you're the one that named the machine,” she smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how I managed to get this done... but here it is- just under the wire.  
> Tumblr Suits 100 Challenge Prompt # 6- Careful What You Wish For
> 
> Feels good to be back- missed my Marvey family!  
> <3 ~Sai


End file.
